Chapter Five

L eaning against the counter, Saint bit the bullet and called Braxton while Mia was in the bathroom. After explaining the current situation, he pulled the phone away from his ear as Brax exploded in that controlled way of his.

“Goddammit, Saint!”

He tentatively put the phone up again and heard Brax coolly announce, “Saint kidnapped Chadwick Carlisle’s daughter.”

The silence was deafening.

“The opportunity presented itself and I took it.” Saint had zero regrets. “We use her as leverage to gain intel from Carlisle about who else makes up The Agency. Then we bring every last one of those fuckers down once and for all.”

“We have all ten names,” Braxton stated flatly.

Shock slammed through him. “What?”

“Zane and River just decrypted the last ones.”

“Huh.” Well, that was unexpected.

“Yeah…huh. If you would’ve waited a little longer instead of running off half-cocked, you could’ve avoided a first-degree felony charge.”

“Please.” Saint snorted. “I’d hardly say this is the worst thing I’ve ever done. You do remember what we do for a living, right?”

“That’s not the point. You should be here right now, working with us. Not on your own, doling out justice like some kind of lone wolf vigilante. We’re a fucking team. We work together.”

“Noted,” Saint gritted out. He supposed Brax had a valid point, but what was done was done. He had Mia and they could still use her to their advantage, use her against her father, because Carlisle probably had a shit-ton of intel on The Agency.

Properly chastised, Saint listened while River began reading through all ten players that comprised The Agency. No one surprised him…until the last name.

Graves.

Saint stood up straight, not sure he’d heard right. And from what he was hearing over the line, it sounded like he wasn’t the only one.

“Graves?” Braxton echoed in disbelief.

“Why the fuck is your name on The Agency list?” Saint asked.

“I have no idea. I’m not a part of it. You guys all know that,” Brax replied.

What exactly do we know, though? Saint wondered while his teammates began questioning Brax.

After some back and forth, Brax snapped, “I’m not a goddamn mole!”

Although he had more questions now than before, Saint believed the man. Seemed like the rest of the team did, too, and they all pledged their support.

Braxton’s voice echoed over the line. “Saint?”

“Yeah?”

“Hang onto Mia Carlisle,” he ordered, his voice low and menacing. “She might prove useful after all.”

And there it was.

“Roger that, Pharaoh.”

The moment he hung up, Mia marched into the living room. “We need to talk,” she declared.

Saint pocketed his phone and sighed. Cutting off Mia’s dress had left him aroused and curious. Curious about the black bra and hint of matching panties he’d caught a glimpse of before forcing himself to walk out before he did something stupid.

Something like reach inside the gap of her dress and start exploring all those sensuous curves.

Looking at the gorgeous blonde now, he wished he would’ve saved that last cigarette. But when she’d moaned in her sleep a couple of hours ago and her dress shifted up to expose a silky thigh, he’d inhaled that last one so damn fast, he may as well have eaten it.

She stopped in front of him and those intelligent, sky-blue eyes flitted down to his chest. Having her attention on his naked skin lit a fire in his gut. One he didn’t want to extinguish.

“Don’t you agree?” she pressed.

“No.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Is that your first answer to everything? No?”

When she said “no,” she dropped her voice and made it sound like a half-grunt, mimicking him. Saint felt his lips twitch.

“No,” he repeated, doing his best to keep a straight face. “Sometimes I say fuck no.”

“Cute.”

She pressed her lips together and he wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Better yet, he imagined them circled around his cock as he fucked her smart, little mouth. It was definitely one way of shutting her up because he didn’t plan on answering any of her questions.

Why couldn’t Chadwick Carlisle’s daughter be a homely-looking, quiet mouse who did as she was told rather than this amazing blonde bombshell who taunted him each chance she got?

Or, better yet, why couldn’t he have had a son? Saint would’ve hog-tied him, gagged him with his own smelly socks and shoved his ass in the closet without a second thought. But he couldn’t do that to Mia. As feisty as she was, she also possessed a delicate side that he didn’t want to ruin in any way. Saint had done a lot of bad things in his life, but he refused to extinguish her light. At the Sip & Spark she’d described herself as a cat, and he had no desire to declaw her. He genuinely enjoyed her spirited, frisky nature.

“Does this have to do with my dad? Yes or no?” she asked.

When he ignored her question, her frustration bubbled over. After releasing an annoyed huff, she reached out and plucked a hair from his chest.

“Ow!” He slapped her hand away, rubbing at the stinging spot. “What the hell?”

“For every question you ignore, I’m ripping a hair out.”

“Like hell you are.”

She crossed her arms. “Just so you understand, if it does, you’re wasting your time. I already told you my dad doesn’t care about me. You’d have much better results if you hacked into his bank account and drained it.”

The dry tone in her voice told him she believed what she was saying. Mia kept saying her father didn’t give a shit about her, but Saint didn’t fully believe that. Maybe they didn’t have the best relationship, but if Carlisle thought his little girl’s life was on the line, he’d do whatever Ex Nihilo wanted.

Wouldn’t he?

The first inkling of doubt crept through his head as he studied Mia. What if she was telling the truth and Carlisle was an even bigger prick than he thought? What if he was willing to throw his only daughter to the wolves without a second thought if it meant saving his own skin and preserving his connections to The Agency?

“Well?” she demanded. “What’re you going to do? Hold me here forever?”

Before she could pluck another hair, he reached for his T-shirt and pulled it on. Then, he merely grumbled, “No.”

When he didn’t elaborate, she threw her arms up. “I give up. I can’t deal with you until I have some caffeine.”

“Now you know how I feel,” he mumbled.

“What do you mean?” She stuffed a k-cup into the Keurig and hit brew.

“The feeling is mutual, except my drug of choice is nicotine.”

“And you’re out of cigarettes?” she guessed. When he nodded, she grinned. “Good. You smell much better now, you know.”

The moment the words left her mouth, she pressed her lips together. He merely arched a brow.

“You don’t stink, anyway,” she quickly amended.

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered, then reached into his pocket, pulled out his vibrating phone and answered, “Saint.”

“We got a ping on Chadwick Carlisle,” Braxton said without preamble.

“Where?” Saint asked, attention shifting to Mia who was lightly blowing on her coffee and watching him like a hawk.

“Russia.”

Saint swore under his breath. “What the fuck is he doing over there?”

“I don’t know. They seem to be recruiting chemists, specifically those familiar with Novichok.”

“I’ll go.”

“We’ll all go.”

“I have a contact who might be able to help us,” Saint said carefully. “But we can’t bombard her or she’ll get scared off. I need to go alone.”

“Who’s this contact?” Brax asked, voice laced with suspicion.

“Bratva.”

Braxton was quiet for a moment, likely mulling over the possibilities, and Saint continued, “You guys don’t know Russia like I do. I can get in and out of places no one else can. And I have informants, acquaintances and friends who can help me track the bastard down. But, I can’t move an entire team or convince my contacts to trust a group of strangers.”

Saint’s focus zeroed in on Mia. “I also have a bargaining chip,” he murmured, and her eyes widened.

“Using Mia as leverage should help get answers or, at least, a meeting with Carlisle,” Brax surmised.

“Exactly.”

“I don’t like you going alone.”

“It’s the only way,” he insisted.

A reluctant sound filled the line. “You’re going to need clothes and equipment.”

“Yeah, that would be nice. Make sure the clothes are warm—coats, gloves and sweaters.”

“Text me Mia’s size and I’ll have the girls put a bag together for her. Everything you need will be waiting on the plane with Pyro. If things get too dangerous, you get the hell out of there.”

“I will.”

“How’s she doing, anyway?”

Saint’s attention slid over to Mia who was watching and listening closely, her pert ass propped against the counter. “Secure…and clueless.”

Her lips parted and she sent him a daggered glare. “I am not clueless.”

His mouth edged up in a smirk. “First-class pain in the ass, too.”

“Oh, like you’re such a joy?” she fired back.

Brax sighed heavily, clearly not amused. “Stay alert and in touch. I want constant updates. I’m talking fucking hourly.”

“Roger.” He disconnected the call and shoved his phone in his back pocket. “We’re leaving.”

“What’s going on?” Mia asked.

“We’re going to Russia.”

He had no desire to spend more time than necessary there, but returning to Russia could help the team get the answers they needed. Granted the last time he’d been there, he’d wound up getting tortured in Anton Petrov’s dungeon. Again. Luckily, Dash Slater’s team and a couple of former Navy SEALs had swooped in to save the day, but Saint still had the souvenirs from the experience etched across his skin. Definitely something to be avoided this time around.

“Russia?” she squeaked. “Why?”

“Because that’s where your dear old dad is, and we’re all going to sit down and have a nice chat. Ponimat' ?”

“What?” Her brow wrinkled.

“ Ponimat'. It means ‘understand’.”

“No!” She jumped up and coffee spilled over the edge of the mug. “I don’t understand! Whatever problem you have with my father has nothing to do with me. I want nothing to do with this or you. Nik, Saint, whoever the hell you are, I want to go home!”

“That’s too damn bad because you’re going to Russia,” he coolly informed her. “And you’re going to help me bring that asshole you call your father down whether you like it or not. Because guess what, Mia? You’re the bait and I intend to catch a rat.”

Emotion flashed across her face. “You’re an—”

“Asshole,” he finished with a cruel smirk. “Better get used to it, Goldilocks.”

She lifted her middle finger. “ Ponimat'? ”

If Saint weren’t so annoyed, he would’ve laughed at her audacity. Yeah, he understood alright. “Put your claws away, kotyonok. We have a flight to catch.”

Mia glared at him. “Did you just call me a cat?”

“Nope. A kitten.”

“Just so you know,” she hissed, marching over to him, “I will scratch your eyes out.”

This time he threw his head back and laughed. Because, damn, she was the most feisty, most infuriating and definitely most adorable woman he’d ever met.